ief-souffle. The feeling ran to his heart, and struck him there
like an earthquake. Down went his head, more firm his hold upon the
lady's waist; she might have been a flower to crush, but yet he must be
rude and strong; he bent her back and kissed her. Her lips parted as if
she would cry out against this outrage, and he felt her breath upon his
cheek, an air, a perfume maddening. "Nan, Nan, you are mine, you are
mine!" said he huskily, and he kissed her again.

Out in the fields, a corncrake raised its rasping vesper and a shepherd
whistled on his dogs. The carts rumbled as they made for the sheds. The
sound of the river far off in the shallows among the saugh-trees came on
a little breeze, a murmur of the sad inevitable sea that ends all love
and passion, the old Sea beating black about the world.

In the room was an utter silence. She had drawn back for a moment
stupefied, checking in her pride even the breathing of her struggle. He
stood bent at the head a little, contrite, his hat, that he had
lifted, in his hand. And they gazed at each other--people who had found
themselves in some action horribly rude and shameful.

"I think you must have made a mistake, or have been drinking," she said
at last, her breast now heaving stormily and her eyes ablaze with anger.
"I am not the dairy-maid."

"I could not help it," he answered lamely. "You--you--you made me do it.
I love you!" She drew back shocked.

He stepped forward again, manly, self-possessed again, and looked her
hungrily in the eyes. "Do you hear that?" he said. "Do you hear that? I
love you! I love you! There you look at me, and I'm inside like a fire.
What am I to do? I am Highland; I am Long Islay's grandson. I am a
soldier. I am Highland, and if I want you I must have you."

She drew softly towards the door as if to escape, but heard her father's
voice without, and it gave her assurance. A pallor had come upon her
cheek, only her lips were bright as if his kiss had seared them.

"You are Highland, you are Highland, are you?" she said, restraining her
sobs. "Then where is the gentleman? Do you fancy I have been growing up
in Maam all the years you were away among canteens for you to come home
and insult me when you wished?"

He did not quail before her indignation, but he drew back with respect
in every movement.

"Madame," he said, with a touch of the ballroom, "you may miscall me
as you will; I deserve it all. I have been brutal; I have frightened